


Cuddle Buddies

by amfiguree



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec's never met a problem cuddling can't fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuddle Buddies

"I _hate_ this job," Eliot snarls, as he rolls onto his side, away from Hardison, yanking the covers with him.  
  
"Come on, man," Hardison says, as he tries to tug them back. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but we're supposed to be undercover. Can we try to be professionals about this?"  
  
"Since when does professional mean sharing my damn bed?"  
  
"You think I like pretending to be boyfriends with a guy who looks like an ax-murderer?" Hardison objects. "I just do what Nate says, okay? So don't take it out on me. I got cold feet."  
  
"That's _not my problem_ ," Eliot says, darkly.   
  
"No," Hardison says. "No way, if we're sleeping together then I'm getting my fair share of the blanket."  
  
Eliot grits his teeth. "We. Are not. Sleeping together."  
  
"Semantics," Hardison says, giving the covers one last, futile tug. "Dude, seriously, I am not kidding about my feet. They get cold, man." He slides one foot under the sheets in search of Eliot's ankles--  
  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
  
\--and, once he's found them, _shrieks like a little girl_. And jerks right out of bed.   
  
Eliot sits up, fuming. "Hardison--"  
  
"What the hell is that?"  
  
"I told you--"  
  
" _What the hell is that_?" Hardison repeats, as he scrambles up off the floor, staring wide-eyed at the covers still hiding Eliot's feet the whole time, hands held up as if to ward it off.   
  
Eliot glares. "Shut up."  
  
"No, man, seriously, _what is that_?"  
  
"Shut up, Hardison."  
  
"Eliot," Hardison says, still looking freaked the _fuck_ out. "Eliot, do you have penguin feet?"  
  
"Hardison--"  
  
"Because those things were _nasty_ , man--"  
  
" _Hardison_ \--"  
  
"I mean, I'm talking _webbed_ , okay, and stringy, like the weird shit that comes out of those silly string cans--"   
  
" _Hardison_! Jesus, shut up!"  
  
Hardison only has a second to catch the look on Eliot's face before he's rolling over onto his side again, but it's long enough for him to feel guilt well up in his stomach.  
  
"Man," he mutters, but he takes a deep breath and climbs back into bed.  
  
"What the fuck," Eliot says. "Get off me!"  
  
"Look," Hardison says, calmly, but he keeps his arm around Eliot's waist, and his chin hooked over Eliot's shoulder, and one of his legs thrown over Eliot's knees. "I know I hurt your feelings--"   
  
"So this is your apology?" Eliot demands. " _Spooning me_?"  
  
"Sophie says you haven't been shown enough affection in your life," Hardison continues, "So--"  
  
"I swear to God, Hardison," Eliot growls. "If you keep talking..."  
  
The warning makes Hardison smile, which is both stupid and potentially life-threatening, but it would be ridiculously easy for Eliot to roll over and disentangle them both if that was what he really wanted. "Go to sleep, man."  
  
"Seriously?" Eliot says. "Seriously. You're just gonna--Hardison. _Hardison_. Goddamn it, Hardison, don't you fucking go to sleep!"


End file.
